


In which the box drops and the lock breaks...

by reiicharu



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Why are Jin and Kame such idiots, lots and lots of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:29:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reiicharu/pseuds/reiicharu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not about the music when it comes to the two of them. [2009]</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which the box drops and the lock breaks...

**Author's Note:**

> Posted sometime in 2011, I apologise that I can't remember the date/am too lazy to check. I referred to this fic as Pandora!fic.

It’s pretty easy to disagree with Kamenashi.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Koki growls when Jin and Kamenashi get into another row that results in Kamenashi storming off. 

Jin tilts his fedora brim down, just a little lower. “I don’t get that guy sometimes.”

It’s pretty easy to argue with Kamenashi. You just have to say what you think and the fight will come to you.

 

*

 

He used to have dreams about Kamenashi sucking him off, with all that eyeliner and touching him, fingers cool and steady. Jin thinks Kamenashi would be good at that—Kamenashi hardly falters.

It doesn’t help, that Kamenashi has that habit to stick his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, to nibble on his lower lip, all whilst his eyes flicker, gaze lingering before his line of vision flickers away, almost like he’s burnt the moment someone makes eye contact.

“Konnichiwa, bitches,” Jin drawls when he enters the room.

Kamenashi looks up, tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth and eyes that seem to invite the imagination to run wild. “Good morning.” His hair is rumpled and one of his necklaces is hiding under his v-neck. 

Kamenashi’s a fucking tease, but it’s half habit and half deliberation.

 

*

 

People like to say that Jin’s the bad guy in the scenario. Jin doesn’t mind. Chicks dig the bad boy—the person who crosses the fine line and shouts: “Screw your boundaries.”

Jin never really liked being told no. More than half the time he’d respond with a “fuck this shit”.

Kamenashi never likes it when someone else pushes the limits. In his eyes, he’s meant to be the perfect one, the one who surprises the audience and that’s the movie he screens inside his crazy little head.

“For Christ’s sake, why the fuck would you want to fly? You could drop down and go splat,” Jin snaps. “We’re going to spend like, two fucking hours just doing a safety check for you and your god damn flying equipment. Uebo was the fairy, not you.”

“I wasn’t a fairy, Jin. I saw them. There’s a difference,” Ueda points out calmly.

“My point,” Jin says loudly, “is that this is crazy and that you’re not only wasting budget and time, but—”

“Do you have any better ideas then?” Kamenashi replies stiffly, hand curling up into fists, nails biting into his palms. 

Jin has to admire him; the way Kamenashi keeps it all under wraps. If it were Jin, he’d snapping and fighting and tussling and refusing to let go of the idea, not even if they had to pry the idea away with a crowbar and pliers. 

“Well?” Kamenashi demands.

Jin exhales. “I need a fucking smoke.”

“You just went on a break an hour ago,” Kamenashi argues.

“Oh good lord, why is this my job?” Nakamaru mutters.

Taguchi rests a hand on Kamenashi’s shoulder, squeezing just that little bit.

Jin gets up before Kamenashi can argue, slamming the door behind him. This isn’t about performance, this isn’t about flying so high that all the adrenaline and blood rushes into your head that all you can think of is freedom. This isn’t about any of that all.

This is about them—it’s always about them, t-h-fucking-e-m. 

 

*

 

KAT-TUN has a buddy system. Nakamaru and Taguchi take Jin, Koki and Ueda take Kamenashi.

Maybe they assigned the system by height (Nakamaru, Taguchi, Jin) or by most amount of time spent on hair and wardrobe (Koki, Ueda, Kamenashi) or maybe it was drawn out of an invisible hat. But it’s a shitty system.

Jin sometimes needs Ueda, he desperately needs Ueda to be blunt, smack him over the head and point him back towards the door. And he knows Kamenashi would collapse without Taguchi, however strange as it seems. 

The system’s flawed. All systems are flawed. They’re a group. They’re a system. They’re fucking messed up, that’s what they are.

“Not my fault this time,” Jin says, right before Nakamaru can open his mouth. “You know I’m right. We spend so much fucking time on his god damn cables and flying and—”

“It’s what he wants,” Nakamaru says gently. “You could have been nicer about it.”

“Nakamaru, just last week he told me that I looked like a hobo that slept under a bridge and asked why haven’t I heard of showering.” Jin toys with his unlit cigarette, sitting on the cold steps in the stairwell. The air is thick with moisture, all cold grey stone and with a scent that vaguely reminds Jin of chlorine.

Nakamaru takes a seat next to him. 

“It’s not about being nice,” Jin states simply. “It’s not.”

“It’s not about anything. You two blow things out of proportion half the time. Kame, because he’s a bit dramatic and you, because you react to him. It’s inevitable. You two just gotta work out the kinks.”

Jin gives Nakamaru a rather hard stare.

“Uh,” Nakamaru tries.

“Yep, I’m sure that’ll work,” Jin drawls. “If I come to work with a black eye, will you be explaining to everyone?”

Nakamaru buries his face in his hands. Jin laughs, letting it ring through the stairwell.

“I hate you,” Nakamaru says, muffled.

“That’s meant to be my line,” Jin says affectionately, bumping shoulders with Nakamaru. “I should be saying that type of stuff, not you.”

“Go away.”

“Yucchi, are you sure you hate me or you hate the fact that I don’t wear a wig?”

“Not talking to you.”

“Funny, you’re responding. What’s this, I’m a drama queen so you respond?” Jin teases.

“You are a horrible person.”

“And don’t I know it.” They let the joke slide, because that’s what it is after all. Just a joke.

 

*

 

It was funny, when they were like, teenagers. Aka-freaking-Kame. That’s what they were. ‘Aka’ for red, ‘Kame’ for turtle and suddenly, it turned into Akame. Some delusion that they were so hot and heavy and tearing off each other’s clothes.

Jin doesn’t confirm, nor does he deny.

It’s not funny anymore, though.

He doesn’t hate Kamenashi. He doesn’t hate anyone—life’s too short for that.

“You look stressed, man,” Ryo says, when they’re ordering vodka shots.

“All the planning, right?” Yamapi asks sympathetically. 

His reply is simple, “Fuck it, get me a shot, seriously.”

Jin just wants a good time. He just wants to enjoy it, to live it up when he’s young, to have something more than endless hours of frustration and arguments and black and white plans on paper that dictates each and every actions.

Kamenashi doesn’t fit into the equation, that’s not Jin’s problem. Kamenashi doesn’t fit into Jin’s life—there’s no room for their disagreements, the failed truce they tried to forge. Kamenashi knows this.

“Why do you look like you want to punch someone in the face?” Pi asks him quietly.

“Stress,” Jin lies.

“I talked to Kame,” Pi says gently. “He said you two had a disagreement.”

“They’re fucking wires, he can just do a performance without needing to flail around ten feet in the air.”

“From what he says, it’s not about the wires.”

Of course it’s not. It’s not about the effing wires.

 

*

 

Going into work with a hangover is never fun.

“Don’t even start,” Jin warns.

Kamenashi looks at him over his newspaper, disapproving and irritable. “Why not? I could if I wanted to.”

“The last thing I need on top of my hangover is your bitching and whining,” Jin mutters.

“Christ, Akanishi. It’s like you aren’t taking this seriously at all.”

“Shut up.”

“Do you even care?”

“Kamenashi, I wouldn’t turn up to work if I didn’t give a damn, would I? Stop getting on my back about my conduct, you aren’t exactly Mr Perfect,” Jin snaps.

“I wouldn’t get on your case if you didn’t make it so easy,” Kamenashi mutters, contempt dripping from his voice. 

Jin throws his hands up in exasperation, stomping out of the room to get some coffee from the nearest vending machine. It’s too early to deal with this. It’s far too fucking early.

 

*

 

When Kamenashi was hauled into a police station for nearly assaulting a taxi driver, Jin thought it was absolutely hilarious. 

But then again, Jin found it sort of sad, that Kamenashi didn’t have a friend to drive him home that night. Jin usually gets a ride off someone, or splits the fare with Pi or Ryo or Josh.

Jin thinks Kamenashi might be a little lonely. It was near Christmas time when Kamenashi was forced to apologise and Jin would hate to be lonely around Christmas.

He might have felt sorry for Kamenashi.

 

*

 

“Have you even chosen your solo yet?” Jin asks Nakamaru.

Nakamaru nods, happily munching on the pasta salad lunch Ueda shared with him. “Why? You still stuck?” he asks, curious.

Jin grunts. “It’s already been decided—for the album, anyways. Care.”

Nakamaru winces in sympathy, patting Jin on the shoulder. “It’s a good song. Your song,” he adds, like it helps. It softens the blow, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s Care and they both know that it’s more than just a song.

“I don’t hate the song.”

“It’s a good song,” Nakamaru repeats, not sure how to defuse the ticking time bomb strapped to temporary truce. “It’ll be fine.”

“Do you like it?”

“Everyone likes it, Jin.”

Jin steals from of the shrimp in the pasta salad, snickering when Nakamaru yelps in protest. “Thanks, Yucchi.”

 

*

 

Tour means prefectures, meets going from east to west in Japan and hearing the cheer of fans in different dialects whilst the rush of adrenaline brings them higher than the sky. Tour means Taguchi asking for shabu-shabu when they want teppanyaki and that means Koki and Ueda accusing each other of using up all the hair product, it means Nakamaru’s stress levels soar higher and it means Kamenashi will be tense and coiled like a spring.

Tour means Jin will live and breathe KAT-TUN, whether he wants to or not.

He wants to, he does. He wants to breathe music, wants to yell so loud that the fans yell louder.

He wants more than just five other people on stage with him, he wants—

Jin thinks he asks for too much, but they all do. They wouldn’t be where they are if they were polite. Except for Nakamaru, but Jin thinks Nakamaru’s just different.

Jin might love tours.

He just pretends it’s another task on the laundry list.

 

*

 

He’s good at lying. He doesn’t like it, doesn’t want to be the bad guy, but it’s his job.

At one point, when he opens his mouth, Jin’s not sure if he can believe his own words.

“I’m fucked if I don’t believe in myself,” he tells Pi.

Yamapi looks at him worriedly. “Jin. Maybe you should talk to them.”

“They’re not the problem,” Jin insists—because they aren’t, because all six of them deserve better. He’s got to figure this out somehow.

 

*

 

Jin doesn’t have a problem. He doesn’t drown his sorrows, doesn’t pop the pills and doesn’t have a rotational fuck schedule—he’s fine. He enjoys himself, has a good time with his friends. He’s almost normal. He deals with it.

“You two used to be friends,” Nakamaru says.

“Why are we even talking about this?” Jin asks flatly. He winces as he does warm up stretches on the cool rehearsal room floors. His waist doesn’t want to cooperate today. 

“Well, tour,” Nakamaru explains helplessly.

“Well, tough. I’m not that one who wants to start World War Three.”

“Jin, I’m sure if you two just sat down and talked or something. Maybe lock yourselves in a room and have an open conversation.”

“Let me go buy some life insurance first, shall I?”

Nakamaru’s groan of dismay would almost be satisfying, if only if Jin didn’t feel a small pang of guilt.

“We work together. We’ve gotten this far, I mean, thinking about it, that’s pretty damn good.”

“He has a sentimental side. I’m sure if you appeal to that—”

“I’m not going to appeal to Kamenashi, even if you held me over a raging river of lava,” Jin says flatly. “We’re going to be professional about this.”

“Jin, I say this with all the love in the world, but you and Kame are tying for the two most frustrating people I’ve ever met. If you’d just take a second, step back and look at the situation, you both practically thrive off this tension but it’s destroying you two at the same time.”

“So?” Jin prompts. “If we’re thriving…”

“It’s not healthy,” Nakamaru says.

Jin doesn’t give a crap about healthy, “It gets the job done, it’s what we’re here for.”

For a second, Nakamaru seems hurt. The apology never comes and Nakamaru never waits, chooses to force a weak smile and say, “You used to want more than that,” because when they were all kids, they wanted the stars and the moon and the Milky Way in their pockets. It’s changed now, Nakamaru doesn’t need to remind him.

“We used to be friends,” Jin echoes, shaking his head. 

“It’s a shame,” Nakamaru admits quietly, “Maybe done differently, you two would still be friends.”

 

*

 

Kamenashi seems to agree, “We could have been friends, in some alternative universe.”

“What makes you say that?” because Jin can’t help but ask.

“We were friends, once,” Kamenashi says, careful words and eyes trained on Jin, face a perfectly painted canvas—it’s all pleasantries and calculation, no other indication of emotion. “We could have remained as that, but not anymore.”

“You aren’t sorry?”

“Why would I be?”

It stings, just a bit, “Because you’re meant to be sentimental.”

Kamenashi’s smile is thin, like he predicted this long ago—how, it doesn’t matter. Kamenashi says, “I am sentimental, but only for the wrong reasons,” like that’s some sort of explanation. “We aren’t friends anymore, so I see no reason to be sorry.”

 

*

 

It simmers in the back of his mind. Jin’s used to being upfront, would rather get it out in the open—maybe that’s where they differ because Kamenashi likes to utilise something called ‘timing’ and Jin would rather not dick around the bullshit. 

“I want it to bother you,” Jin says to Kamenashi, “Get pissed off, bitch about me and say I ruin everything and that you wish I stayed in America, can’t you just fuck shit up for me?”

Kamenashi is collected and acts like he’s in front of the god damn Emperor, perfect posture and no trance of annoyance, “Why? So I can give you an excuse to hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.”

Jin expected something else, but he brushes it off like a fly on his arm. “But you don’t like me.”

“There’s no point.”

“In hating me or liking me?” Jin asks, feels pathetic that his voice is so plaintive. He’s seven years old and he can’t get an ice cream because money was too tight—Jin thought it was because he didn’t do well in his maths test. 

There’s no definite answer from Kamenashi, just a shrug and it’s a good lie—Kamenashi has an answer, he just likes to draw it out, keep it hidden and wait for the right moment to drop the bomb. The jimusho trained him well, it’s almost fascinating to watch.

Jin doesn’t want to be interested, doesn’t want to be entranced. He knows better. He tells Kame, “You should like me, we work together,” but it sounds like another lie between them. 

“I don’t think that’s what you want.”

For once, they’re in agreement.

 

*

 

They go around in the same circle, harsh words and heated glares. Kamenashi plays his part, workaholic perfectionist and wins people to his side. Jin throws his reputation to the dogs and asks for a drink and a girl.

No one believe them when they say it’s about work—Kamenashi’s solo is creative, Akanishi’s solo is from the heart, what on earth could be the problem? Follow the choreography, follow the rules, that’s how you can break the records.

But I don’t want to, Jin wants to scream, I don’t want to be a puppet.

Jin knows he’s famous. He knows his life is cameras and glossy pages and powder dusted over his cheekbones. 

“Is it a burden?” Kamenashi asks sardonically, “Lifestyle of the rich and famous?”

Jin says he’s not rich and Kamenashi tells him to just shut up and think.

“About what?”

“Forget it.”

“Don’t start something with me then just drop it.”

Kamenashi’s laugh is wry, like he expected this before the words were even formed: “Why not? You do it all the time.”

Jin wonders if LA will always be the chip in Kamenashi’s shoulder until the end of time. They could do a fucking autopsy on Kamenashi and Jin would find it there, some dent in Kamenashi’s shoulderbones with ‘LA’ engraved by Jin’s own hand.

It’s rather macabre and Jin thinks Kamenashi might like it that way.

 

*

 

“How do you deal with it?” Jin asks Pi, “How do you put up with being like this?”

Yamapi blinks, has to think it through and his smile is sad: “Did Kame get to you again?” 

“I never said that.”

Yamapi waits.

Jin sighs and asks for him to be honest, “As my best friend, as the person I trust the most in this fucked up world, tell me the truth. How do I deal with it?”

“You don’t,” Yamapi says softly. He lets Jin rest his head against his shoulder—strong, reliable Pi with the muscles and the blank eyes that have seem a war between charts and microphones. “You pretend, just like he does.”

“It’s my private life. It’s not relevant.”

“And it hurts the most, doesn’t it?” Yamapi concludes, all sombre words and far too old for Japan’s darling Yamashita Tomohisa. “I’m sorry, Jin.”

“It’s fine,” Jin says with a sigh. “I’m fine,” and he lies so easily, maybe he’s not so different from Kamenashi after all.

 

*

 

Jin pretends he doesn’t have strange dreams with Kamenashi and eyeliner and hands and a lick of the lips—he pretends that they were ever friends because Pi is right. Pretending is what he does, it’s that easy. 

Kamenashi used to ask Jin to count to five, just for once look before he leaps and he stopped when Jin leapt across the ocean and Kamenashi’s words were lost in the wind. Kamenashi stopped, just said they were too different and it’s fine, let’s just be professional. 

Sometimes, Jin thinks Kamenashi needs to learn how to fucking chill out.

Jin thinks that Kamenashi probably doesn’t chill out, not even during sex. Jin likes it however it goes, he likes to enjoy it, prefers it when there’s something to remember and be completely consumed by.

He thinks Kamenashi likes it dirty, probably a little on the kinky side with pulses racing and shaking—not in a good way, but probably with the high tension that leaves you breathless.

It’s probably good. Interesting, a little bit crazy, but good.

They don’t talk about it, just like how they don’t talk about everything else that’s like a giant moose sitting between them. 

 

*

 

It should be easy, they should have it when they ask. They don’t—Jin wants peace, he wants love, he wants a marriage and a baby in a god damn carriage, but that’s not happening any time soon. He writes a song, asks around and gets things down at three am in studios that aren’t owned by the jimusho. 

“It’s a good song,” Jin insists, “The fans will like it.”

“It’s in English,” Kamenashi snaps. “Do you not listen?”

“It’s about universal love, they’ll get it with the beats.”

Nakamaru quickly shoves a can of coffee into Kamenashi’s hands before anything venomous is spat out—good thinking. Everyone else sits quietly, Ueda tapping a pen on paper and Koki checking his watch.

Taguchi finally says, “Kazuya, why not let him have it, just this once?”

Jin has never seen Kame look at Taguchi like that—certainly, Kame has shot Koki a murderous glance when woken up at the wrong time, but never Taguchi. It’s as through the room transcends into sub zero temperature.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Kamenashi snaps.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t bother,” Kamenashi hisses to Taguchi, slamming the door behind him.

Koki pats Taguchi on the arm, says, “You are good job” with honesty and mutters he’ll talk to Kamenashi after work, “Maybe he just needs to cool off,” but doesn’t seem to believe it.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Jin insists to no one.

Ueda purses his lips, looks over the lyrics on the sheet, hits play on the CD player once more. His head bops ot the beat and even Taguchi seems to like it. They both shrug.

“It’s a good song. I wrote it.”

“You wrote Care,” Nakamaru reminds softly.

“He’s not doing 1582 in the arena,” Jin snaps, “He can’t. We can’t bring cables to fucking Fukuoka.”

“Just give him a moment,” Nakamaru advises. “It is a good song, Jin.”

 

*

 

Kamenashi’s smoking in the bathroom, leaning against the wall and running a hand through his flat hair. He didn’t use any product today, it looks softer.

“Look—”

“Shut up.”

“No,” Jin snaps, “I won’t.”

“I’m in no mood for conversation,” Kamenashi says, each word clipped. 

“Well, I am.”

“And what Akanishi Jin wants, Akanishi Jin gets,” Kamenashi replies, sardonic tone and unamused smile. “How nice.”

Jin wants to shove Kamenashi’s head into a toilet and _flush_. “That’s what this is about? Me getting my way? You’re making this childish feud—”

“I’m dealing with a child.”

“Right. _Right._ ”

“If I don’t stand in your way, who will? You’d just bulldoze through everything and not give a damn about who you step on.”

“Don’t you do the same?”

“Within reason,” Kamenashi snaps, “And not for my own personal gain.”

“Apologise to Taguchi,” Jin mutters. “If he doesn’t care about you, no one else will.”

“Are you jealous?”

He takes a deep breath and says, “Yes. What I want, I get—but the one thing I can’t have, it’s in your hands. If I had people choose a side, it would never be mine. Are you happy?”

“No,” Kamenashi says simply, “But you should know that.”

Jin wonders when Kamenashi strapped dynamite to the lock, the two of them standing witness as everything cold and gloomy crept into the universe, drab grey enveloping what was left of the sunshine. Jin wants to know how much of Kamenashi’s dream was torn apart.

“There’s not much left of you,” Jin says suddenly.

Kamenashi looks at him, a hollow shadow. “Of course not. I never do things halfway.” He offers Jin the last puff of his cigarette.

Jin takes it, leans against the wall next to Kamenashi. “It’s a good song.” He finishes off the smoke as Kamenashi starts another. “Why do you hate it?”

“I don’t hate it.”

“Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Kamenashi tells him, “I’m sentimental for all the wrong reasons.” 

 

*

 

Taguchi has called Kamenashi ‘Kazuya’ for the longest time. It was before everyone called Ueda a variation of Uepo, Tatchan or Uepi and before Tanaka-kun because Koki and Nakamaru got coined with Yucchi. For some reason, Kamenashi to Taguchi is—has always been—Kazuya.

“Why?” Jin asks Taguchi.

“Because,” Taguchi says simply.

Because what? 

Kamenashi was Kame, still is Kame. Jin used to call him Kame, but that was before everything frosted over and Jin started using Kamenashi in front of the cameras and in private. So—

“You can try,” Taguchi encourages.

“He snapped at you. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“If Kazuya were really mad, he wouldn’t be speaking at all,” Taguchi says gently, “He’ll blow up at us, but he’ll let off steam. You know this.”

“Why did you take my side?”

“Because.”

Because what, Jin wants to scream, this isn’t a tongue twister or riddle, this isn’t a joke.

 

*

 

Management reluctantly, grudgingly allows Wonder.

A few days later, it’s decided that Nakamaru should try bungee jumping in Tokyo Dome.

 

*

 

There’s no need to cry, you’re a big boy now—fall over, scrape your knee and get back in the game. That’s what people used to tell him, when Jin was no one and a little kid who thought that food, glorious food made the world go round.

Jin falls on hard floors, rolls onto his back and stares at a ceiling. 

He accuses the establishment of restraint, being old-fashioned and words are just words. Jin knows that. His smiles are reluctant, forced and Jin thinks he could be an existential—if he smiles for real and no one sees it, did he even smile at all?

He dances, pretty little pop star in his world with the lights that shine too bright and Jin wants to cover his eyes with his hands. He puts on sunglasses instead, pulls his hats lower and Jin dances and dances and dances until his waist gives out and feet blister. Jin says this is the best he can do, that he’s good at he is.

Kamenashi tells him not to waste time, “Don’t you know how important this is?”

They plan like Tokyo Dome is everything, the arena tours are a build up—they all know it’s a lie, that every single stop means the world to them, that Taguchi smiles at every single person there, Koki’s hands will touch every child’s and Nakamaru will laugh not because they make him, but because the audience makes the adrenaline rush through his veins.

Kamenashi, Jin doesn’t know what Kamenashi wants out of it all.

“I used to be your friend, what changed?”

“You did.”

“We both know it’s not just my fault.”

Jin turns up everyday with band-aids on his blisters and his mother tells him to see an acupuncturist.

 

*

 

BANDAGE told him that no matter how high up you are, something will always knock you off the damn pedestal. Jin asks what Gokusen taught Kamenashi, there’s a ghost of hope when Kamenashi said bonds and Jin thinks the world gets hit by a meteor when Kamenashi expands on his answer, “Bonds, they can be easily severed, like they were never formed to begin with.”

 

*

 

Ueda did MOUSE PEACE. Ueda did MOUSE PEACE, “And you never said a word against it.”

Kamenashi laughs, like he’s ready for a close-up and he looks happy. It’s an illusion and it’s wonderful. “It made him happy,” Kamenashi says, “I want Ueda to be happy.”

“What about me?”

The smile is cold, “And what about you?”

Jin’s not quite sure how to answer. 

 

*

 

The flights are booked, the rooming arrangements are made and Jin feels a throb in his waist as they schedule block after block of group rehearsals, as he does the turns, a box step, absolutely anything and he asks about the dancers, the ones who will perform for him and Ueda, the ones who will bounce up and down to Ueda’s mutilated bubblegum rock and pop and lock to WONDER.

Kamenashi’s drumming his fingers against the table as management explains all the Juniors, all the music crew, all the back-up will have their own arrangement and would KAT-TUN please focus their energy on the main event—

“Jin,” Nakamaru says after the meeting. “Jin, don’t.”

“Do you see me as a part of KAT-TUN?” Jin asks Kame, directly. 

It’s six of them in a room, Kamenashi not even looking up from the file that has his flight details and the maps management’s provided, you know, just in case.

“What am I, just someone who stands next to you on stage but someone you throw aside once the doors are shut?”

“Kame,” Koki says quietly, “Please, Kame.”

Please be kind, don’t break him, the message couldn’t be clearly. Jin doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want illusion, he wants to see Kamenashi with bad teeth and spiky hair, he wants to see Kamenashi Kazuya stripped of it all so Jin can know, just _know_ if he’s been tripping over thin air and tricks.

“Does it matter what I think? Because you never gave a damn before. When I told you to slow down, you sped up. When I told you to think, you never listened. What I wanted for us, you ignored to satisfy yourself. What you want, you get. So, what are you to me? You’re someone who I need to cooperate with for the greater good.”

“Fuck that,” Jin hisses, “Fuck you.”

Kamenashi’s mouth curls into a cruel smile, like his god damn monologue wasn’t enough, like the knife hasn’t been driven home enough, “And wouldn’t you love to try?”

Jin stands up from the table, snaps that he’s not into Kamenashi, “You’re not my type.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“I’m here because I have to work with you. I’m here because we were selected at random to dance with each other. I’m here because it’s my job, because I have a contract, an obligation. I’m here, not because I want to be. So fuck you, just fuck you, Kamenashi Kazuya and your standards and expectations and your so called professionalism.”

Kamenashi asks if Jin is done.

Jin says to Kamenashi that he’s through.

 

*

 

They’re gone, down and out for the count with no chance of recovery.

 

*

 

Taguchi calls Kame ‘Kazuya’ and he sits next to Kame when everyone gives him a wide berth. His actions are subtle, gentle touches on the arm and silly jokes about baseball, little things like putting his jacket around Kame’s shoulders and saying that his back is hurting, maybe he needs Kame as his supporter:

“Baby, you shine brighter than the stars in the sky.”

Jin wants that, he wants the sweet and sugar and subtle.

“You can’t have him, you can’t take all the prizes,” Kame warns him, the first words they speak after the blow-up. 

Jin asks what is Taguchi to Kame, Kame asks if Jin really wants this to turn nasty.

 

*

 

Pi says that he heard a song once, it was in English, “You can’t always get what you want,” and he asks Jin if this is it, if they’re hitting the limit break and they’re no rock stars with French kisses in the back of a limousine and girls drinking champagne off their navels.

Jin asks, “What happened, Pi? When did it all start going bad?”

I’m losing it, don’t you know, everything is falling apart—“I’m Akanishi Jin, I’m meant to be happy.”

Pi lets Jin bury his face into his shoulder. Pi’s strong, broad shoulders and lazy smiles and right now, slow pats on Jin’s back, just gentle words that it’ll be okay, don’t care, don’t care. Don’t mind, don’t worry. “What are you worrying about, it’ll be alright,” Yamapi tells him.

 

*

 

Jin reads magazines in English, wants to be on the cover of ROLLING STONE, asks Ueda why didn’t he want to be a rock star.

Ueda’s laughs and smiles are always so airy, like he’s throwing a weight of worry over his shoulder every time. Ueda’s the best sometimes.

“Why didn’t I?” Ueda asks Jin. “I can’t dance all that well, can I?”

“Idols don’t always need to dance. Sakurai Sho can’t do a back-flip.”

Ueda laughs and Jin’s heart feels a little lighter.

 

*

 

Jin can never understand Kamenashi, doesn’t get it that in rehearsals, he’s going a step too far by just standing there, waiting for someone else to point out which direction to take. He doesn’t get it, doesn’t want to. Jin doesn’t need anything from Kamenashi, just plays his part and does it beautifully.

When his waist hurts, someone leaves a hot pack near Jin’s bag.

Could we change a thing, could everything go back to how it was? Jin wonders if Koki were in his place and Taguchi in Kamenashi’s, wonders what would happen if they got between those two and if—

Nothing can change, no ifs or buts and Jin feels sad, so very sad.

Kamenashi and him are the last to leave, Jin pressing the hot pack to his waist and Kamenashi running through the last few steps with no music.

“Kamenashi.”

No answer, but Kamenashi stops. They look at each other in the mirror and Kamenashi gives nothing away, gives Jin nothing to go on.

“What are the wrong reasons?” he asks. I don’t hate you, but I can’t like you—Jin thinks that liking and caring for Kamenashi is like asking for a hurricane to stop when it’s taking the roof off your house. Jin doesn’t want to hate anyone.

“What does it matter?” Kamenashi replies. “What I think, you don’t care for.”

“I do.”

“It’s too late.”

“I just want to know what’s the greater good, because you are no philanthropist and I’m no saint,” Jin’s never spoken truer words and it makes Kamenashi smile. “So, what was the lie for?”

“People want to believe the lie. People believe in us, you know?” Kamenashi’s right, he’s always right, “It’s easier to tell you that than to tell you what I think. If you really got you what you want, you wouldn’t still be here. You’re delusional, Akanishi. You’re scared and broken and you’re still waiting for someone to tell you where the shining light is. It’s not my job to hold your hand, it’s not my job to put you back together. You wanted this, you wanted to be here, I don’t tie you down. I don’t hold you back. I’m giving excuses because it makes you feel better.”

“I’m miserable,” Jin explodes.

“Are you? So why are you still here? The door is right behind you. We don't have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“You say I get what I want. I don’t.”

“I know.”

Jin’s heart stops.

Kame’s heart might have been blown by with dynamite a long time ago, “KAT-TUN is everything to me, I would do anything to protect us, even if it meant—”

“I was the price you had to pay.”

 

*

 

People believe what they want to believe, Jin bought into the act a long time ago. They’re damaged and delusional and he wants to apologise one thousand times over. 

“Did you know?” he asks Nakamaru.

 

*

 

“Of course I did,” Koki says quietly.

 

*

 

“He wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ueda tells him.

 

*

 

Jin tells Kame, “Let’s break the records, you and me.”

This is the last time, they both know that. They’re pouring their hearts out for the crowds and they’re too far gone to ever look back.


End file.
